Page 106 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

He laughs again and steps under the spray first, letting it soak his dark hair until it slicks back from his forehead. Rivulets run down his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles.

“Come here,” he says, extending a hand.

I take it, stepping under the warmth with him. He pulls me close, our bodies sliding together under the stream, and he grabs the body wash from the shelf. Squirting a generous amount into his palm, he starts at my shoulders, his big hands lathering up my skin.

“Mmm, this feels nice,” I sigh, leaning into him as he works the suds down my arms and across my collarbone.

His fingers move over my breasts, thumbs grazing my nipples until they harden again. I gasp and smack his arm.

“Hands off the merchandise.” I say.

“God, you’re like a little ninja,” he says, laughing.

“Hi-ya,” I say, karate chopping at his chest.

He grabs me around the waist before I make contact and pulls my back against his chest. I try to squirm out of his hold, but he’s way too strong.

“You are a menace,” he says.

I grab his forearm and bite it.

“Holy shit, Katie,” he says, but he’s laughing. He still doesn’t let me go.

“Let go! It’s my turn to wash you.”

“If I l do, will you promise not to bite me again?”

“Maybe.”

He leans down to my ear. “Not maybe. I need a firm yes.”

“Fine! I won’t bite you again.”

He drops his arms.

“At least not today,” I smirk.

He shakes his head, but I grab the body wash from him and pour some into my own hands. I start at his neck, rubbing the foam into his skin, feeling the corded muscles under my palms. I go down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and I linger there, tracing the happy trail that leads to his groin. He groans softly when my fingers brush his cock, cleaning it with a teasing stroke that has him twitching back to life.

“Katie,” he warns, but his eyes are dark with amusement.

We take turns after that—his palms gliding over my ass before slipping between my thighs to gently clean my pussy, still tender. I wince a little at the soreness, but his touch is soft, apologetic almost, and I lean up to kiss his jaw, tasting the water on his skin.

“You’re not half bad at this aftercare thing,” I admit, rinsing under the spray as his hands move up to my hair. He chuckles, tilting my head back so the water soaks my strands.

“Let me take care of you, Doll. All of you.”

He grabs the shampoo, working it into my scalp, massaging in deep, circular motions that have me melting against him. The lather builds, and he combs through my curls, untangling knots, his other arm banded around my waist.

He rinses the shampoo out carefully, fingers threading through until the water runs clear, then applies conditioner the same way. The whole time, his body presses against mine, cock half-hard, nudging my thigh, but he doesn’t push; it’s just there as a reminder.

When he’s done, he shuts off the water, the sudden quiet amplifying our breaths. Steam clings to the glass, and he steps out first, grabbing a towel from the rack. He wraps it around his waist with a quick snap, the fabric clinging to his wet skin, low enough that I catch a glimpse of that V-line before it hides away. Water drips from his hair, trailing down his back, and he looks every bit the powerful man who just claimed me.

He turns, snatching another towel and holding it open for me. I step out, shivering a bit in the cooler air, and he envelops me in the soft terrycloth. He rubs my arms and back with firm strokes to chase away the chill. His hands are warm, drying me before he tucks the ends securely at my chest.

“How’s that?” he asks, eyes searching mine.

He’s so fucking adorable.